


The Harsh Truth Of The Camera Eye

by Das_verlorene_Kind



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: (sort of), Anal Sex, But mostly fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kidfic, M/M, Smut, and also, design expert!Patrick, modern Pete gets a makeover!, previous minor character death (mentioned), queer eye AU, single dad Pete, thicc Pete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Das_verlorene_Kind/pseuds/Das_verlorene_Kind
Summary: The Fabulous Five are visiting Pete Wentz, freelance photographer and single dad who tries his best at raising his two boys all by himself after the untimely death of his husband two years ago. The Fabulous Five want Pete to get out of his slump, throw a Halloween party again, and optionally, wear something other than sweatpants and oversized sweaters. But as it turns out, Halloween holds some difficult memories for Pete...Patrick Stumph, the Fab Five's design expert, has no time for the tear-jerking part of the production - his mission is to renovate and organize what Pete calls "creative chaos". What seems so easy turns out to become more complicated, especially when Pete keeps getting closer to him...





	The Harsh Truth Of The Camera Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, everyone!
> 
> This is my contribution to this year's Trick or Pete!  
> I went with a Queer Eye AU since I keep rewatching it on Netflix, and since I'm sure I'm not the only one who would like to give Pete a little makeover. And that's what fanfic is for, right?  
> I've struggled with writer's block for a while, and was afraid I wouldn't even make it in time - but I am trying my best to get my head back in the writing game!
> 
> The matching art this time is a Pete Wentz paperdoll - you can actually print it and cut it out, color it to your likings, and dress up paper Pete in the desired outfit!~
> 
> And now, enjoy the fic!

 

 

The fabulous five’s Jeep rolls through the streets of Illinois, towards the suburbs of Chicago.

 

“Who are we visiting today?” Gabe, their fashion expert, asks, because it’s a good shot for the beginning of an episode. He’s driving, a little too reckless for everyone’s taste, but thankfully Travie, their culture expert, has him under control most of the time.

“Get this. We’re visiting a single dad today - a single _gay_ dad with his two kids,” Brendon, the local food and wine expert, reads from the script, waggling his perfectly shaped brows into the camera. “His name is Pete, and his husband died two years ago after his battle with cancer.”

“Poor guy,” William, the grooming expert, says with the prettiest pout he can muster. “What a tragedy!”

“I can’t imagine losing my husband,” Gabe says with unusual sincerity, then looks into the car camera. “Love you, baby!”

 

In the back of the car, the fifth member of the Queer Eye cast bites his lip. Patrick doesn’t really like these obvious tearjerker episodes. The single dad with his two kids and dead husband – the production team and, more importantly, the _viewers_ , will love it. Tragedy isn’t easy to handle for the cast either, emotions are running high, chances to fuck up are even higher. Personally, Patrick prefers the more carefree episodes, like that time they visited the firemen. That was fun. In more than one way.

Still, it’s not Patrick’s job to complain, and it’s not that Pete guy’s fault that he’s had a tv-tragic life.

“Two kids all by himself? Must be difficult for him,” Patrick finally says, because the production team needs a montage of reactions from all the members, “he’s very brave, and kudos to him for having the courage to take a step forward and accept our help.”

“Pete was nominated by his best friend Joe,” Brendon continues, pausing to give the editors a good chance to insert a shot of Joe’s introduction here, “because he wants Pete to go out, have fun, and find love again. It’s what Adam, his husband, wanted – according to Joe, Adam wanted Pete to live a happy and fulfilled life after his passing, and to eventually find someone new who’ll love him just as much as he did. Oh, that’s so sweet!” General ooh-ing and aww-ing follows, and Patrick takes a deep breath. It’s going to be a challenge to redecorate a house that’s full of a dead loved one’s memories.

“Pete works as a freelance photographer. Lukas and Isaac, his two kids, are four and seven years old, and can’t wait to help their dad with his makeover!” Brendon clasps his hand, looks over to William and Gabe. “You heard that, guys? Isn’t that adorable? What precious little babies!”

“We can buy them all matching outfits!” Gabe says, laughing as he almost sways into the next lane.

“Matching _costumes_ ,” Travie intervenes with a calm voice as he eyes the script, “because at the end of the week, Pete will host a Halloween party for the kids and their friends!”

Patrick smiles; now, this is a new challenge. “Don’t worry, I can do party décor, too!”

More general chit-chat and screaming at Gabe to stay in the lane follows as the Queer Eye cast keeps rolling towards set.

 

 

The house itself is nothing special – average sized, surrounded by a small and very neglected looking garden (Patrick makes a mental note to himself to remedy that first chance he gets), a modest middle-class dream amongst similar dreams taking the form of suburban homes and picket fences. The camera crew and production team is already there, and Patrick nods towards Vicky, his favorite producer, who waves back with the hand that isn’t holding a giant Starbucks coffee cup.  

William knocks on the front door, his politeness lost in between Gabe and Brendon announcing their presence through loud shouting. By the time the door gets opened, Travie has showed himself in front of the two too noisy cast members, his big frame obstructing the view of the participant. Patrick only hears general shouting and noise, a very ugly laugh, and two kids screaming “daddy!”.

They’re ushered in, film crew following them, from a small and extremely messy hallway (Patrick makes sure to get his annoyed look on camera) into a more spacious but no less messy living room. Everyone introduces themselves, Patrick going for a polite handshake instead of a hug. He’s not big on hugging strangers, and he’s not too sure how to handle the two children, now hanging on their dad’s leg, clearly curious but unsure what to make of all these new people in the house. Patrick likes children, but he doesn’t always like their parents, especially in a professional environment with tons of room for him to mess up.

Pete, he notices, is rather small and somewhat lost among the other cast members, who’ve already huddled up around him. It’s not Patrick’s place to judge but yeah, he can absolutely see why someone would nominate Pete for the show. Because upon first glance, he looks like an utter mess.

The bright yellow hoodie that Pete is wearing is at least three sizes too big, hanging off his frame like a potato sack, combined with worn-out tracksuit pants tucked into his socks. On his feet are a pair of extremely ugly sports shoes that must’ve been white a long, long time ago and should immediately be disposed of in the nearby overflowing garbage can. The beard is just long enough to not pass as neither a full beard nor a carefully maintained sexy stubble, and the little bun peeking out from the Chicago Bulls baseball cap (Patrick approves, but knows they’ll probably need to blur the logo) looks messy not in a “ _William used five products and half an hour to style my hair_ ”-way, but in a “ _I woke up this morning and had to rush the kids to daycare_ ”-way. Underneath it all must be a semi-decent looking guy… Somewhere. It’s not Patrick’s job to find him. Instead, he decides it is best to assess the house first and look what he has to work with.

The floor is littered with Lego, and the reason for that stands in the middle of the room in the form of a colorful, cube-shaped building vaguely resembling a house.

“I’m so sorry for the mess,” Pete says, grinning as he looks towards Patrick at the other end of the room, “but the kids wanted to build their dream house for you guys!”

There’s general ooh-ing and aww-ing from everyone, and Patrick knows Vicky will go crazy for these adorable words followed by a shot of the adorable children, now having forgotten their shyness, standing next to their colorful creation, beaming with pride. Pete is behind them, roughed up but proud single dad, the picture-perfect image for the TV screen. Patrick has the distinct feeling this will be an exhausting episode to film.

Oh, Patrick has no idea.

 

 

They finish up the introduction, and now it’s Patrick’s time to shine a little more as they leave the living room to explore everything else. Gabe has seven-year old Isaac on his shoulders (fuck, he can already see how Vicky is grinning in her hidden corner behind the camera team, it’s such a _cute_ shot) and Pete carries Lukas, four-year old with nothing but curiosity towards everything that’s going on.

“Did you set off a bomb made of Lego in your house?” Patrick asks, brows raised, as they walk up the hazardous stairs full of tiny bricks.

“Yes! Boom!” Little Isaac yells, followed by Gabe repeating a loud “boom!” and Pete laughing his weird laugh. That is answer enough.

Somehow, they make it up the stairs alive and with all the technical equipment intact.

“Your hair is a mess,” William remarks, clicks his tongue as he gestures Pete to take off the cap. “Why do you try to straighten it? I bet your natural hair looks gorgeous.”

Pete shrugs, and looks away. He sets down the little boy in his arms, then sends his kids off to play. The kids’ rooms are off limits for the production team anyway, so they skip to the rest of the house.

“I was always self-conscious about my hair,” Pete starts to explain now as he runs a hand through his hair, “I straightened it for most of my life until I got together with Adam. He convinced me to finally overcome the habit. But ever since he died…” He pauses, receives condolences and pats on the back from everyone. Patrick swallows. Pete’s a natural in front of the camera, that must be the reason Patrick’s heart is suddenly beating faster.

“Adam was a true sweetheart. He always wanted me to go out, have friends, and find someone else to love me. I tried dating a few times, but…” Pete makes a gesture with his arms towards the kids’ rooms. “It’s not always easy, being a single dad. And people didn’t like my hair, so I thought, I already brought enough baggage into the relationship, might as well get rid of that one.”

General noises of disagreement fill the tiny hallway. “Forget those idiots,” William exclaims, because he can’t swear too much on camera, “how _dare_ they!”

Travie nods in agreement. “You can be proud of yourself,” he says calmly as he strokes over his own curls, “how about I tag along with you and Will, and we’ll solve this together?”

“That would be wonderful,” Pete says with a soft smile, and why does that make Patrick’s heart skip a beat?

Brendon clears his throat. “I’m happy for you guys, but we gotta…” He motions towards the crew behind them, and Pete straightens his back, and turns towards the door next to them. “I’m a freelance photographer,” he explains to his guests, who nod as if that hadn’t been in the script. “I rent a small studio in town for shoots sometimes but work mostly from home. This is my little office.”

 

The cameraman gets in first for a good shot, then Patrick follows, and he hopes to whatever furniture deity there might be that the camera catches his reaction.

 

There’s no system and no sense of tidiness at all. Every available surface is littered with papers, magazines, technical equipment from cameras to lenses to lights. The shelves are bursting with books, magazines, folders that must contain every piece of paperwork in this household ever, and another Lego creation that looks like a robot. Half-hidden behind it is a picture of an attractive guy with dark hair and a piercing look in his eye – Adam, Patrick guesses.

With care, he takes the frame into his hand, gestures towards Pete. “This is beautiful. Did you take this?”

“I did,” Pete says with pride, “I took all the pictures you see here.”

“I’m not really seeing anything,” Patrick remarks as William and Gabe try to dig out a print without destroying it, to hold it up to the camera. “Why do you keep these shoved into a corner in your studio?”

An awkward shrug is answer enough, and Patrick smiles – he has found his first personalized design element. He’s sure there are more beautiful photos somewhere in this mess just waiting to be displayed.

“I call it creative chaos,” Pete says with a bright, winning smile, and he seems to believe it too. Patrick clears his throat, looks towards Vicky, who points him to look into the camera. He knows there will be a nice reaction shot filmed in the studio later, where he can declare his opinion on that – _no,_ _it’s just a fucking mess_. And screw it, Vicky’s just going to have to censor his swearing.

Patrick is here to relieve them from their terrible taste in furniture and to give them a living space they truly want to come home to. That’s why he toughed it out all his life, worked his way up from Bed, Bath and Beyond to having his own high-end stores and the Patrick Stumph Interior + Design services. That’s how he made a name for himself as an interior designer, that’s what was part of his audition for the show, and that’s what Patrick tells himself again as they continue the tour through the house.

 

Next is the bedroom. A queen-sized bed takes up most of it, the rest of the room is filled with clothes, boxes, more clothes, and the occasional stray toy.

“I see you like to wear hoodies?” Gabe asks as he eyes the clothes littered around them. “And what’s with the track pants? You know what Lagerfeld said about those, right?”

Pete tugs at his sleeve. “I like to wear some of Adam’s old ones,” he explains, then sighs. “But, uhm… I, y’know. Gained a little weight. I’ve always had issues with body image, and I don’t want people to see the extra weight. I’ve… Gotten some bad feedback for that, especially from other guys…”

William scoffs, flips his hair. “Gay guys can be such a bunch of superficial idiots,” he says with a sneer, “honey, you don’t need this negativity in your life. You do need new clothes though.”

“Indeed,” Gabe agrees, “what else do you have to offer?” Pete shrugs as Gabe opens the almost-empty drawer of his wardrobe.

“The floor is my wardrobe?” He offers with a smile. “You see, I’m trying my best to keep my kids’ rooms nice and clean, I cook for them, I drive them to daycare, soccer, school, there’s playdates and work and… I just don’t have much time for my own stuff.”

“Tell me, Petey, what’s your grooming routine?” William yells from the bathroom. Everyone follows him there, and just as the cameras are turned away, Patrick suddenly finds himself next to Pete, who’s lost the confident smile.

“I’m a good dad,” he mumbles as he makes a fruitless attempt at cleaning up by throwing some of the shirts from the floor onto the bed. “It’s just… Difficult sometimes.”

Despite the chaos, Patrick can’t be mad. Besides, he’s had much, much worse. He offers Pete an encouraging smile. “Let me guess, Adam decorated the house?”

“He did!” Pete chuckles as he discreetly kicks aside a pair of shoes. “You saw that I have no taste and no sense of orderliness, so Adam took care of the furniture and doing laundry and stuff. Dude, first week he was in the hospital, I couldn’t find half my shit. Took me six months after he died to find our ironing board!”

Patrick can’t help but chuckle as he puts a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with an easy system for you and the boys.” Pete smiles back at him, and it looks really sweet with his boyish round cheeks and the corners of his eyes crinkling.   

Then, Patrick notices the camera pointed at them, and Vicky sticking her head out of the bathroom, winking at him. He lets go of Pete’s shoulder, and then William repeats his question about grooming; Pete turns his head for one last grin at Patrick, then heads towards the bathroom to be chided about his lack of self-care. Vicky gets back behind the scenes, which means she comes up to Patrick, who is still standing in the bedroom, pretending to eye the furniture. “Good job,” she whispers as she pats his back, “he’s a cutie, isn’t he? And he does well with the cameras, natural talent I guess. This will be fun.”

Patrick isn’t so sure.

 

 

Most of the time, Patrick’s job is the least interesting one to film. There will usually be some shots of him with his crew, the reaction of their participant, and then some heartfelt interview after a rough edit of the episode six weeks later in the studio. That’s fine with him, that’s just how it works in this business, and Patrick prefers some solitude. He has five days to plan a remodeling of an entire house plus garden, he doesn’t have time for shenanigans anyway.

But this episode, they don’t let him get away that easily.

“This will be fun,” Vicky explains, which Patrick swears he has heard her say like three times now, “his kids are cute, and they wanna help. I know, I know, working with kids is a nightmare for everyone and we have to respect privacy, but please. Get me some cute shots of daddy crafting Halloween decorations with his kids, and I won’t bother you again.”

“Fine,” Patrick grumbles into his coffee; he’s overseeing his crew as they repaint the living room with washable paint. Next time the kids draw something on the walls, all Pete will have to do is to scrub over it with a wet sponge. Genius.

The carpets are almost gone, too. Hardwood it is, with the genius twist of rugs; one to look pretty, and one for the kids to play. Patrick thinks he will keep a corner for them in the living room, for all he’s seen so far, Pete doesn’t mind having them around there. Good. Patrick hates nothing more than a living room that’s not used for _living_.

“Get me a list of what you need, and I’ll set the shoot for tomorrow morning.” Vicky empties her third cup of coffee as her eyes follow one of Patrick’s team members, a cute young woman with cotton-candy hair up in a practical bun and pretty curves hidden under a big shirt and blue overall, a little too close as she walks by to dispose of some of the torn-off carpet. Patrick doesn’t mention the irony. Instead, he gets out his phone to search the web for kid-friendly crafting ideas.

 

 

Next day, Patrick’s gotten an impromptu table and bench into the freshly-trimmed, newly-planted garden. It looks like an actual garden instead of a jungle now, and he’s getting a swing and a small slide installed for the kids. But first, some cute shots of daddy and the kids crafting together. Vicky has given him a thumbs up, and then Pete and the kids arrive, on time, laughing with William and Travie.

Truly, William has given it his best. Patrick takes a moment to take in the sight, before he greets Pete with another handshake and somewhat awkward hug. For a good shot, he tells himself.

“You look fantastic,” Patrick says with a smile, and it’s not a lie. The baseball cap and messily straightened hair has been traded for a short, simple cut and his natural curls. The beard is reduced to a neat 5 o’clock shadow, and his skin is glowing, both because William no doubt used at least 3 different sponsored products on him but also because Pete’s bright grin just illuminates everything around him.

“Daddy’s pwetty,” the smallest kid says with a hint of surprise, “Bill made daddy pwetty!”

William waves his hand in false modesty. “I had great material to work with.”

“Don’t forget,” Travie says as he pats the kids’ heads, “always be proud of yourself, okay? Same goes for your daddy, he’s a good man.”

That’s a great line for the camera, and the shot of Pete waving goodbye to Will and Travie while rubbing over his eyes is going to be perfect. Sometimes, Patrick wonders if he’s getting too cynical.

But every bit of cynicism is soon forgotten; the kids turn their attention back to their dad and Patrick, excited for the surprise they’ve been promised. Pete blinks, but he’s back to smiling. “I heard we’re in for some arts and crafts?”

Patrick nods, gestures them towards the table, but Pete takes a moment to appreciate the work in the garden. “I guess this was more Adam’s part?” He says with a chuckle, and Pete shrugs.

“I like flowers. I’m just not… Very good with them.”

“Don’t worry,” Patrick puts a hand on his shoulder, he’s not sure why, but it feels good. “I got you some new plants that are easy to maintain, and I’ll put in a slide and a swing for the kids.”

Pete practically beams. “Fuck, you’re the best!” He says – Patrick knows that swear word is going to be censored – “can’t wait to see what you do with the inside of the house!”

A wave of heat rolls over Patrick, leaves his face in a faint blush. Professional pride, he tells himself.

 

They join the kids at the table, and Patrick explains what he’s planned for today. First, candle jars – he figured candle jars are good, because candles satisfy every human’s internal need for pyromania in a safe way. And the glue and paper are the perfect combination to make a mess for children of every age.

“First, we’ll put some color on them,” Patrick explains as he demonstrates how he glues the paper to the glass jar (more for the camera than for the kids), “and then, you see those black markers over there? You can paint everything you want!”

“Ghost!” Lukas screams as he reaches for the white paper, “daddy, I wanna make a ghost!”

 

Pete nods at Patrick with a big grin as he helps his youngest son to pick out the right paper. His oldest eyes the glass jar with furrowed brows, and just as Patrick fears the wrath of a seven-year old declaring his arts and craft ideas to be complete shit, Isaac speaks up.

“Daddy? I want to make one that looks like the tattoo on your arm.”

Pete seems a little startled, stops cutting the white crepe paper; then, with a small sigh, starts to roll up his right sleeve. Patrick hopes the tattoo is safe to show on camera.

The sleeve reveals swirls of black, a full sleeve – Nightmare Before Christmas-themed, Patrick realizes upon second glance. “It’s my favorite movie,” Pete explains to him while his kids are busy getting Mod Podge everywhere, “I’m a huge fan of Tim Burton. We used to watch Nightmare Before Christmas every Halloween back when – back with Adam.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick mumbles, his half-finished candle jar forgotten in his hand.

“Dad likes the movie,” Pete’s oldest son says as he eyes the selection of colorful paper. Since Pete is daddy, dad must refer to Adam. “Daddy, if I make him a candle, can we put it on dad’s grave? I don’t like the one grandma put there. Dad would want a pretty one, and then it’s like he has part of the movie always with him!”

The younger one looks up now, eyes widened at his brother’s wisdom. Glue drops from the brush onto his denim overall, but Pete doesn’t seem to notice. The little boy nods with all the sincerity a four-year old can muster. “Dad wants a pwetty candle!”

That’s the moment Pete has to turn away, muffling a sob into his shaking hand. Patrick feels his heart ache at the sight. Despite the cameras still rolling, Patrick leans over the table and reaches for Pete’s hand. There isn’t really anything he can say, so he just rubs soothing circles over the back of Pete’s hand while someone offscreen hands the poor guy some tissues.

“Please don’t cry,” Isaac says slightly confused and helpless, “the candle is for happiness!”

“Happiness,” his younger brother repeats, seemingly offended that his daddy doesn’t understand. “Daddy, happy!”

This just makes Pete let out another wet sob as he buries his face in his sleeve. Patrick feels his face heat up; he has to say something.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” He nods at Isaac, who seems pleased at the approval. Patrick doesn’t really have the heart to tell them that the candle jars aren’t really meant for enduring wind and rain, so he tries another approach. “How about we keep the candle here at home, with all of you? That way, you can have a part of your dad with you, and it’s like part of him is always with his family. I’ll make a special shelf just for him, we can put the candle there together with his picture. Would you like that?”

The kid stares at him, then nods. “You’re smart,” he says, then finally grabs the purple crepe paper.

The younger brother chews on his lower lip. “Happy?” He repeats with uncertainty, and Patrick nods.

“Yes,” he says with as much patience and as much of a gentle, reassuring smile he can muster. “I’m sure it will make Dad and everyone else very happy.”

That seems to satisfy the boy. He picks up his glue brush again, goes back to making what his daddy would call a creative mess. Internally, Patrick lets out the biggest sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” Pete mumbles as he wipes away the last trace of tears and snot from his face. His eyes are a little red and puffy, but the small smile on his face is sincere. Patrick smiles back; Pete squeezes his hand, and only now does Patrick realize he’s been holding it the whole time. His heart misses a beat, and Patrick has a hard time keeping a calm façade when he finally lets go of it.

 

The rest of the arts and crafts session goes well, no more teary interruptions, just the cute shots of cute kids and their cute dad making candle jars, then cutting out paper bats and lastly, they help the kids decorate their trick or treat baskets. At first, Patrick had been a little nervous about the whole children being present situation, but the more time passes, the more he lightens up. He’s not sure whether it’s because he’d just been too nervous, or if it’s Pete’s friendly and open nature just allows him to open to be more relaxed. Patrick tries not to overthink it, just as he tries to ignore that weird warm feeling in his chest when he sees Pete happily crafting with his kids and having a good time, or that way his damn heart still skips a beat when Pete smiles. It must be because emotions ran high today, Patrick’s a professional, okay, he’d never – he’d never.

At the end, Isaac hands Patrick the candle jar he made – colorful, and with a pretty good imitation of his father’s tattoo drawn on it. Patrick accepts it with a smile and the promise to put it on Adam’s shelf, then bids the three of them goodbye. He watches as Pete leaves, then stares at the candle jar in his hand, that symbol of trust from a seven-year old that feels more important than it should.

The camera team packs up, they’re off to meet Pete later with Brendon. “Well done,” Vicky whispers to Patrick as she passes him, pats his shoulders before she hurries after her team. Patrick feels the corner of his mouth twitch, and it’s not for a smile.

 

 

Later that day, Patrick’s team has packed up and he’s the last one left on set. No cameras, no crew, just him inspecting today’s work and their progress. He’s rather satisfied with it so far, the wooden floor looks nice, the walls are done, the furniture ready to be assembled and moved in.

A knock on the glass door to the garden makes him jump. When he turns around, he sees Pete behind the glass, holding up a Tupperware box and pointing towards it. Slightly annoyed, Patrick opens the door. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he says in a hushed voice.

“Just wanted to say thanks for today’s work,” Pete replies, completely unbothered by Patrick’s irritation. “Will you let me in? I promise I won’t tell. Blindfold me if you want!”

That’s obviously meant as a joke, so why does Patrick’s traitorous, irresponsible, stupid damn dick twitch in excitement at that thought?!

“It’s fine,” Patrick says through gritted teeth, he’s in his thirties, he’s too old for surprise boners in front of attractive guys. “Come in, just promise me to act surprised for the camera later.”

“Awesome.” With that, Pete’s inside the house, making noises of approval as he sneaks a look around the living room. He turns back to Patrick, holds out the box he’s carrying. “For you. It’s the food I made with Brendon today! We had so many leftovers, and I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for the kids. So, take it as a thank you for today. You were awesome with the kids.”

“Thanks,” Patrick says softly as he opens the box, revealing a bunch of cake pops decorated as little ghosts. “They look adorable.”

“Try one,” Pete urges him, and it would be rude to decline, wouldn’t it? Patrick grabs a ghost cake pop, carefully takes a bite. “Delicious,” he says between two bites, careful to keep his eyes on the baked goods in front of him rather than staring at Pete’s mouth. This is almost ridiculous.

Pete seems to have no such worries. When Patrick is done, he notices how Pete is staring at him with a faint smile, eyes wandering down to Patrick’s lips. “You’ve got something there…”

 

Embarrassed, Patrick reaches up to wipe over his mouth. Pete’s lips are there first.

 

The kiss comes as a surprise. And yet, the moment Patrick catches himself, he can’t help but kiss back. Pete slings his arms around him and they stumble back against the freshly-painted wall. Patrick doesn’t even care if the paint has dried properly, all the blood is rushing from his brain towards his crotch. He trails down to press a kiss to Pete’s neck, delighted when he gets a wanton moan in response. Pete’s hands slip under Patrick’s shirt, which gives Patrick the courage to do the same. Beneath the oversized hoodie, he finds warm skin, the soft swell of Pete’s stomach, the delicious thickness of his hips and ass.

It’s perfect, all of this is too perfect, which is when it hits Patrick.

“Wait.” Patrick takes a step back as suspicion creeps up on him. “Why are you doing this? Is this some kind of crap the producers told you to do?” Patrick recalls Vicky’s excitement; now, she’s not the type of person to exploit him, but not all their producers are as nice. If they or the network heard anything about a potential romance…

Pete furrows his brows, and Patrick gets angrier. “Tell me, did anyone set you up to this? Told you to fake a little romance with me? Oh God, please, tell me you’re not wearing a mic. I swear –“

“It’s not,” Pete interrupts him angrily. “What is wrong with you? No one set me up to this.”

Patrick crosses his arms, scoffs in disbelief. “Yeah, right. This is all just a big coincidence.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Pete repeats more angrily as he pulls down the hem of his hoodie. “I like you, or at least I thought I did, but if you’re actually just some cynical paranoid tv personality, then I take that back.”

Patrick watches as Pete turns around, guilt and regret befalling him. “Pete, wait –“

 

It’s too late, Pete slips through the glass door back into the night, leaving Patrick in the empty house with nothing but distress and embarrassment.

 

 

During the next day, Patrick finds himself unusually nervous. He tries to bury himself in the work, and it sort of helps to distract him until Vicky comes along again. She hands him a cup of coffee, and Patrick frowns. “Why are you the only producer to ever talk to me?”

“Gee, I wonder why, little Miss Sunshine,” she replies as she rolls her eyes. “Brighten up, Stumph. We have some shopping to do today.”

Patrick furrows his brows as he mentally goes over the schedule. “Uh, did I miss something?”

Vicky just grins.

 

An hour later, Patrick finds himself in front of the Spirit Halloween Superstore with the production crew, Travie, and Pete with his kids.

“And why am I here?” He whispers to Travie with increasing panic. “Isn’t this your part?”

“Chill, Stumph.” Travie pats him on the back, gives him a reassuring smile. “I had Pete and the kids pick out a costume, so now it’s your part to find the matching decorations for their house and garden. Remember, the party? You have one guess what the theme will be.”

“Nightmare Before Christmas?” Patrick tries with a weak smile, not surprised when he gets a nod.

“Have fun.” Another pat on the back, then Travie sends him off.

Patrick has enough experience under his belt to be a professional about it. No matter how much Pete’s words and the missed opportunities sting, Patrick’s a professional, okay, he can fucking do this – he can do this, no swearing, they will be in front of the camera.

 

Before they start filming, he greets Pete with an awkward hug, holds on to the sleeve of his tie dye shirt. Patrick’s sure Gabe will have fun with getting these off Pete, just like Patrick would – oh, damn it.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Patrick mumbles hastily, not much time until they are on air and the façade of a reality show separates them again. “I was an idiot.”

“You were,” Pete replies, but at least, he doesn’t seem as angry anymore.

“Nice shirt?” Patrick offers weakly, which gets him an amused chuckle.

“My boys made that for me for Father’s Day,” Pete explains with a proud grin, lovingly tugging his collar. “They’re the best.”

Before Patrick can say anything, the crew ushers them into the store. They get a giant shopping cart, which the kids promptly conquer; Pete’s youngest gets to sit inside, while the older holds on to the cart, trying to help Pete navigate through the maze of Halloween decoration.

 

“So I heard you’re having A Nightmare Before Christmas party?” Patrick asks, he has to say something, anything to make this less awkward.

“I’m ghost!” Little Lukas shouts excitedly, “Patwick, I’m the ghost!”

“He is Mister Oogey Boogey,” Pete explains with a chuckle as he strokes over Lukas’ hair, “Isaac is Barrel. The skeleton boy? And I’m Jack Skellington!”

“Travie said I can dye my hair green, just like Barrel’s!” Isaac looks very proud. “A skeleton with green hair! Daddy, can I really dye my hair?”

Patrick can’t help but chuckle, finds himself easing up again. The kids are a good distraction, although Pete seems to harbor no grudge against him anymore. He’s excited and easy around Patrick, having fun as they pick out some Halloween décor for the garden, the house, and some for the kids’ rooms even. It takes a while, and Patrick knows most of this won’t even be in the episode, but it’s fun. Watching Pete with the kids makes him realize how misguided his accusations had been – Pete’s a great dad, and he would never sell out his kids for a cheap on-set romance to smear their names. Which means Pete must’ve been honest…

Patrick shoves these thoughts aside, and just tries to enjoy himself. And so what if his hands linger a little longer on Pete’s when they both reach for the same Jack Skellington-pumpkin.

 

 

Once they’re done and out of the store again, everyone is hurried to pack up and carry their gear to tomorrow’s set. It’s been a long day and Patrick’s ride is already here, all he can do is wave Pete goodbye. He sighs deeply, wonders what to do next; then, his phone rings.

Seeing Vicky’s name on the display somehow gives Patrick a very uneasy feeling.

 

Back in the Fabulous Five apartment/studio, Patrick has his little corner to plan out the renovations – always good for a montage shot, too – and this is where he keeps his work material. It’s a quiet place usually, but right now, Patrick is nervously awaiting Pete’s arrival, paces the room, tries to calm himself.

Vicky called him earlier to tell him that Pete has been informed about his plan to decorate the house with the photos he took, and insisted on coming over to help pick out the ones he considers good enough. A part of Patrick is furious that his taste is questioned, but there’s nothing he can do other than grit his teeth and wait to meet Pete. Alone. With no camera, mic or producer around.

Patrick’s a professional. So, why is he so nervous?

A knock on the door interrupts his train of thoughts, and then Pete walks in, waves awkwardly at Patrick. “Hey there. I’m here for the photos?”

Pete is not a good liar.

A moment later, he’s in Patrick’s arms, his kissable lips so, so close. “I meant what I said,” Patrick whispers, glad that Pete doesn’t object the hug, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I promise, I’m not a cynical asshole, but… My workplace can just bring out the worst in people sometimes.”

Pete shrugs, lays his arms around Patrick’s hips. “Guess that’s the price for working in a reality TV show.”

“I like you,” Patrick says, feeling incredibly lame for his awkward phrasing, “you’re smart, creative, you’re a great dad, and I liked kissing you, too. I know we haven’t known each other for long, but…”

“Patrick, I…” Pete takes a deep breath, wriggles his way out of Patrick’s arms to take a step back. “Look, you’re cute, you’re witty, and you were great with the boys. I think you already know a lot about me, plus you saw me cry already.” He offers a small smile, then continues. “You just have to know what you’re getting into. I’m a freelance photographer and I am good at it, but I’m not rich and I’m just about to pay off the rest of the house and the last of Adam’s hospital bills. I’m a single dad with two kids, and my boys mean the world to me. I don’t have time to fuck around anymore. I need you to be serious about us.”

Silence lingers between them. Shyly, Patrick reaches out to hold Pete’s hand. “I am. I promise. Look, I’m in my thirties, I have a career and I’m not the kind of guy who screws others over, ever. But, I am traveling a lot for my job. I’m ready to spend every other minute home with you and the boys, just so you know…”

Pete laughs his ugly laugh, then kisses him; and the kiss says more than a thousand words.

“That’s okay,” Pete whispers when they break apart, “I think we can work that out. Hey, you could use my studio now too, since you so efficiently redecorated it…”

Patrick laughs, then remembers why Pete is here in the first place.

“Wait, what about the photos?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I already had these selected. Figured we’d use our time for different things…” With that, Pete produces a small USB stick from the pockets of his worn-out jeans, places it on Patrick’s desk. “I don’t have much time, I gotta be back with the kids soon, but…”

No more needs to be said. Patrick grabs his sleeve, and a moment later, Pete sits in his lap, laughing, before Patrick silences him with a kiss.

Time well spent indeed.

 

 

It’s the end of the week, and the last day of shooting in Pete’s house – today, he will see his new house, show off his improved style, and then bid his goodbye to the Fabulous Five.

Patrick’s a professional. Doesn’t mean he’s not nervous. If anyone else has picked up on their little romance, they’re polite enough not to mention it in front of the camera. Travie just gives him a knowing smile, while Brendon asks Patrick if he enjoyed the cake pops with the most innocuous look he can muster.

The house has turned out well, if Patrick may say so himself. Pete and the kids seem to agree, the two boys promptly running off to the new and improved kid’s corner.

“Let’s take a look at the studio, shall we?” Patrick proposes with a certain pride in his voice.

No more papers and stuff flying around, oh no. Everything is packed away neatly, meticulously labeled, the expensive tech items now sorted and stored in an appropriate manner for such expensive gear. The desk area is cleared, the shelves dusted, the picture of Adam now next to a shot of the whole family. Two of Pete’s pieces hang on the wall, together with a small assembly of family pictures.  

“Everything has a system,” Patrick explains while he gestures towards the shelves, explains to Pete how everything is stored. Patrick smiles and accepts the compliments he gets from his colleagues and from Pete with a gracious smile.

“Heard you guys crafted something?” Gabe asks with a grin. William strikes a pose next to him, flips his hair as he turns to Patrick. “Yes, Tricky, let Pete show us what you guys made together with his fabulous children!”

They go back downstairs, and Pete shows the paper bats and trick or treat bags to the camera.

“Look, Daddy!” Isaac yells now, points to one of the shelves. “My candle for dad!”

“Candle for dad!” His younger brother repeats with a grin that looks just like Pete’s. Everyone else seems a bit confused, but Pete just goes over to his boys, hugs them both before he sends Patrick a smile.

Patrick smiles back.

 

 

A while later, the shot is done, and the crew packs up; now, it’s time to edit, do a rough cut, do the interview asides, and eventually finish the episode for good. The cameras and mics are off, everyone has said goodbye and is about to leave. Amidst the chaos, Patrick sneaks off, finds Pete still standing in the front door. “Do you want me to stay?” He whispers nervously. “If it’s not a good time, I can –“

Pete has hauled him in before he can finish the sentence. Patrick can hear hollering from Gabe and William, catches a glimpse of Vicky making an inappropriate gesture with her hands, then the door falls shut.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur; the kids run through the house, screaming and giggling about everything that’s new, before Pete sends them off to the garden to try out the new swing, promising they will all decorate the house together.

“Why didn’t you leave?” Isaac asks, his little brother peeking out behind him.

“Because Pete and I became friends,” Patrick explains cautiously; it seems best to leave it at that for now. “And I want to spend more time with him.”

“Cool,” Isaac answers, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and his younger brother nods in agreement with him.

Patrick considers this the best time to play his trump card. “Wait a moment. I got you two something,” he says with a smile, comes back a moment later to hand each of them a small package wrapped in seasonal gift wrap. The kids tear through it, make noises of excitement when the content is revealed.

“Pumpkin King!” Isaac shrieks, waves the plushie towards Pete, who leans against the dining table and watches the scene with a big grin on his lips. “Daddy, look! Lukas got Zero!” As the kids are about to storm off to their father, Pete holds up a hand, makes the sternest expression he can muster as he scolds them: “Now, what do we say?”

“Thank you,” both boys say to Patrick, who nods with a big smile. With that, the boys storm out of the house, and Patrick considers it somewhat of a victory, especially when Pete chuckles, then comes over to him, slings his arms around Patrick’s waist and pecks a kiss to his lips.

 

Eventually, the garden is somewhat decorated, and despite their protests, the kids are asleep mere minutes after Pete wrestles them into bed, exhausted from excitement.

Soon after, Patrick finds himself in Pete’s newly decorated bedroom; with a new bed, a practical wardrobe, better storage space and the skyline of Chicago hanging over the bed, one of Pete’s best photos.

At some point, Pete loses his shirt, carelessly throws it to the floor; Gabe would be mad. Patrick doesn’t care.

Pete’s naked skin looks good against the carefully selected lavender sheets, gold and black a tempting contrast. He’s still fit, but there’s a nice pinch to his baby cheeks, the soft curve of a small tummy, a little hint of love handles just perfectly sized for Patrick to put his hands there.

“Better than anything Gabe dressed you in,” Patrick mutters with a grin as his hands trace from the weird bat tattoo on Pete’s groin up to the patch of black hair on his chest. It earns him a laugh from Pete, who leans against the purple pillows, stretches his body like a cat ready to play.

“’s been a while,” Pete says as he unbuttons Patrick’s shirt, “you gotta be gentle with the old man.” He laughs again at Patrick’s irritated face, then drags him in for a kiss while sliding off Patrick’s shirt, throwing it to the floor and dooming it to be all wrinkled and a traitorous evidence of what happened this night. It doesn’t matter, maybe Pete can lend him a shirt for tomorrow when they all sit in the kitchen, enjoying breakfast with the kids at the new and improved dining area. Fuck, why is Patrick getting so turned on by these simple thoughts of domestic bliss?

Their pants now discarded as well, they grind against each other, slow and almost shy. Sure there have been kisses before, stolen insecure intimacy, the light trail of a hand, short, sweet moments. But this is something else, it’s heavier, more important, the stakes have been raised. Pete has two kids and a dead husband, Patrick has a career and no intention to play around either. Now would be the last time to withdraw from the burden of responsibilities, to quietly slip away into the night with a mumbled apology and forget Pete forever.

Patrick intends to do no such thing. Neither today, nor any following night.

The sincerity in his intention must’ve come through, each kiss and each gentle touch must’ve confirmed Patrick’s words from before, because Pete smiles his big-toothed smile, then redirects Patrick’s hand to his crotch. “I want you,” he whispers, and it’s clear he just doesn’t mean that in relation to his hard-on straining against his briefs, but the erection is the easiest and most immediate thing they can both deal with.

Patrick strokes him slowly through the soft fabric of the brand-new underwear, relishes in the breathy moan he gets in response. Pete bucks his hips, searching for more, which Patrick takes as permission to slip his hand under the waistband, find raw, heated flesh in his grip.

“Take them off already,” Pete groans, “and if you please, yours too.”

Well, Patrick doesn’t need to be asked twice.

 

“How far do you want to go?” Patrick asks, keeping Pete’s dick in a light grip as he waits for an answer.

Pete rolls his eyes, drags Patrick closer again, fingers twisted into his thin hair. “I have two kids. It’s a little too late to treat me like a blushing virgin.”

“I’m being polite,” Patrick mumbles in response, brows furrowed.

“How far do _you_ want to go, Patrick?” Now, Pete sits up, reaches for his repainted nightstand to open the first drawer. It’s still empty, because fuck it, Patrick isn’t paid to deal with this, and participants are asked to take any special items into storage before remodeling. Growling in irritation, Pete gets up, and walks over to the still-packed sleepover bag.

“You put your lube in there?”

“Where else was I supposed to put it? My kid’s old clothes? The box with Adam’s old stuff?”

The lube is thrown towards the bed, and Patrick leans forward to catch it before it can spill all over the hand-picked, crisp new sheets and matching pillows. Pete sits down in front of him, head tilted, hard cock curving against his tiny tummy roll.

Patrick remembers the question he was asked, and clutches the lube in his hands. “I wanna sleep with you,” he whispers, the PG word slipped into his answer just out of his habit not to swear anymore, even though no screen or TV crew is here with them. It makes him feel so lame, makes him blush and bite his lip.

But Pete only chuckles, reaches for Patrick’s semi. “What a coincidence,” he says in a low voice as he keeps playfully teasing Patrick’s dick with frustratingly light strokes, “because I want you to fuck me, too.”

A noise between a whimper and a scoff escapes Patrick’s throat, before his lips meet Pete’s for a passionate kiss. He slicks up his fingers, then pushes Pete back into the carefully arranged, anti-back pain pillows. It’s a beautiful tableau of luxurious color-coordinated cushions, and the stretch of golden skin, black hair, black ink.

In a self-conscious move, Pete puts a hand over the swell of his stomach. “Used to be fitter,” he mutters, “the Fab 5 helped, but even you guys can’t fix my self-esteem in just three days.”

Patrick smiles, because it’s true, and because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I know that feeling,” he mumbles instead, still half-smiling, “’s still not easy to be the least attractive one of the bunch, or to have these weird chubby chasers all over my social media now that I’m a public person.”

“To me, you’re the fucking prettiest of them all,” Pete declares with nothing but sincerity. He caresses one of Patrick’s nipples between his fingers, slides them down to rest on the love handles that somehow always look bigger on screen, as if the camera really added that ten pounds like the rumors say.

Nothing of that can ruin the moment for Patrick though. His smile widens, this time, with honest happiness; he leans down, brushes a kiss over Pete’s chest, follows the small trail of black hair down to his stomach, the happy giggle he receives almost better than the moan when the teases Pete’s cock with the tip of his tongue.

When Patrick looks up, amber eyes smirk at him, before Pete spreads his legs, reveals the tight pucker between them that Patrick soon pushes his fingers against.

They go slow; the cameras are packed up, the kids are sound asleep, the night belongs to them. They kiss, they touch, and Pete slowly relaxes around Patrick’s fingers, starts to push back in demand for more, and eventually groans in satisfaction when Patrick finds his prostate, rubs repeatedly over it until Pete is a shivering mess in his arms.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” Pete repeats in between two kisses, hushed breath against Patrick’s skin, “bareback.”

Patrick inhales sharply, sits up, torn between surprise and instant arousal. “Are you serious…?”

“We’re both clean, right?” Pete says with big eyes and a hint of mischief in his smile, “and I’m into it. I want to enjoy myself again. You know I love my kids, but – I just need to be _Pete_ instead of _daddy_ for a while.”

It still seems like a lot for the first time, but Pete’s clearly very enthusiastic about it, his hard, leaking dick resting on his belly, legs spread and three of Patrick’s fingers still buried inside of him, with that big grin on his face as he opens his arms in invitation.

All Patrick can do is nod silently as he withdraws his fingers, reaches for the lube again to slick up his cock. Pete watches him with hungry eyes, holds his breath as Patrick lines up with his entrance.

Patrick goes slow, partially to make sure Pete is alright, partially because he’s afraid he’s going to come his brains out like a horny teenager if he doesn’t focus on holding back for now. Pete’s tight, a hot embrace around his cock, wet and bare and beautiful. Once he’s bottomed out, he reaches for Pete’s dick, keeps it in a light grip until Pete relaxes, unfurrows his brows and opens his eyes.

 

They go slow, because this isn’t just a hushed one-night stand, not a cheap romance for the Netflix/Amazon/HBO streaming generation; it’s making love.

 

Their hips work out a rhythm, roll in sync as their lips meet for hungry kisses. Pete makes the sweetest little gasp when Patrick’s cock brushes against his prostate, puts his hands on Patrick’s hips to urge him to keep moving. Patrick does, and keeps working Pete’s cock, reaches up with his other hand to card through Pete’s hair. It’s thick and curly between his fingers, much better than the burnt strands of chemically straightened mess before. He tugs on it, gently, experimentally, but Pete just moans in approval.

“I’ll… I’ll come,” Pete gasps, all hard flesh and slick heat under Patrick’s hand, each stroke making him tighten further around Patrick’s own dick, “Just – ah, just a little more…”

Just a little more? Patrick is ready to give him everything.

A few rough strokes, another thrust, and Pete comes, spills white over Patrick’s hand as he clenches tight around his cock, muffles his cry by burying his head in Patrick’s neck. Patrick fucks him through it, each thrust, each stroke causing more sweet sounds from Pete until he falls silent, rests his head back into the pillows, looking happy and sated and so fucking stunning.

 

“I’m close,” Patrick groans, eloquence lost in the stream of arousal. His hips meet the back of Pete’s thighs, the rhythm suddenly thrown off when Pete presses his heels into Patrick’s back, tenses up under him.

“Wait,” Pete whispers, his short, freshly manicured nails now digging into Patrick’s hips, “wait, Patrick, I…”

Patrick does as told, grits his teeth and stops his movements despite his dick twitching in protest. They’re both breathing heavily, but Pete looks uncomfortable now, stiff shoulders, head turned slightly, widened eyes fixed on Patrick as he mumbles: “I can’t. Don’t – don’t come inside of me…”

The tension vanishes from Pete’s body as Patrick nods, then slowly pulls out; he’s so fucking close, the tease of his orgasm burning low in his groin, and yet he holds back. There’s something way more important first.

“You good?” He asks concerned, hair-pulling now traded for cupping Pete’s face in his hand. “I can – we can stop here, that’s fine, just… tell me what you want, babe.”

Pete closes his eyes, leans into the gentle touch, takes a deep breath; when he opens his eyes again, he seems more relaxed, lips curved into a smile again, his fingers now lightly trailing over the traces of red they left on Patrick’s hips. With a small groan, Pete sits up, gives Patrick a sweet little kiss. “It’s okay. I’m good now,” he says softly, puts one hand over Patrick’s to lace their fingers together, lets the other one wander between Patrick’s legs. “You still wanna come…?”

“Fuck,” Patrick growls with little eloquence as Pete’s thumb wipes away a drop of precum, “fuck, Pete, yes, yes, I… Fuck!” All he can do is to bury his head in the crook of Pete’s neck, take in the scent of sweat and sex and the warmth of someone else’s body as Pete wraps his hand around his aching length, starts to work his cock with swift movements. Patrick moans against the thrum of Pete’s pulse beneath the tan inked skin, tries to roll his hips in sync with Pete’s strokes as he bites further whines and groans into a dark-red bruise on Pete’s throat. Pete coos sweet, breathy little nothings into his ear, flicks his wrist in a maddening, perfect rhythm until finally, Patrick comes undone in his hand. Pleasure drowns out every other sensation, a wave of electric heat buzzing through every nerve ending of his body, ebbing away to leave a warm, sated feeling.

Chest heaving, Patrick lifts his head, tries to catch his breath a little before he exchanges a slow, deep kiss with Pete. Only now does Patrick notice that Pete’s other hand is still laced together with his, fingers clinging together, his palm still pressed against the scruff of Pete’s freshly-shaved stubble. He slowly withdraws, and Pete grins, brings their hands up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of Patrick’s hand, before he lets go.

 

As the afterglow slowly wears off, the autumn coldness of the room creeps back into Patrick’s consciousness, lets him shiver and yearn for the warm blankets the he personally arranged in matching colors to the sheets just this morning.

Pete stretches himself again, lets out a yawn. “We should check out that new bathroom you gave us,” he says with a big smile, and Patrick nods. They stand under the warm spray together, too tired and drained for more than some lazy making out, before they’re back in bed, smelling like the apple-cinnamon shower gel hand-picked by William (from their sponsor’s selection). They are wearing two of the band shirts that Gabe didn’t throw out, and when they finally sink into bed, Patrick compliments himself for picking out such a comfortable mattress and such big, fluffy blankets.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” Patrick asks sleepily.

“I’m verse,” Pete answers with a shit-eating grin, but then rolls on his side, his back facing Patrick in an invitation to be hugged. Patrick draws him closer, buries his nose in Pete’s neck, takes in the artificial smell of the expensive shower gel and the faint, delicious hint of Pete’s own scent.

“You okay?” Patrick mumbles, hand trailing over Pete’s flank. “I’m just asking because of earlier… I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or did something wrong.”

Pete turns around, props his head up on his hand. “I’m good. It wasn’t anything you did.” He sighs, but continues: “I wanted you to bareback me, and I thought I wanted you to come inside of me too, I wanted to give you everything, be as close together as possible, but…” He sighs again, swallows, takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t this close with anyone since… Since Adam,” Pete admits quietly, “and I just wasn’t as ready as I thought I’d be. Please don’t take this the wrong way…”

“I would never,” Patrick whispers fondly, pecks a quick kiss to the corner of Pete’s worried frown. “Let’s take all the time we need. We’ll work it out. It’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” Pete says with a soft chuckle as he lays down again, cuddles closer to Patrick, “it’ll be fine – no, it’ll be fucking _amazing_.”

 

 

A few weeks later, the Fabulous Five gather on set to watch the rough edit of the big event – Pete’s Halloween party. It’s impossible to hide his new relationship from his colleagues, so Patrick has asked for the same respect and anonymity every other significant other gets. He also got the producers to drop the tacky add-on mentioning Pete falling in love with him. Patrick is fine with their relationship being public eventually and so is Pete, but their relationship is not a good to consume, and thankfully, just the mention of the kids and potential bad press was enough to scare the studio off. The editors have enough material to work with already.

Everyone is sitting on the couch, pretending it’s still Halloween by wearing costumes to match the Halloween deco of the set and the theme of the episode. So what if the devil costume Patrick chose just happens to look like Lock’s. Nightmare Before Christmas is an element of the episode, after all. He sips on a glass of red wine (matching the spooky theme as it’s supposed to look like blood) as they get the screen started.

“Look at him,” William singsongs when Pete appears on screen, about to get into his costume, “his hair looks so much better! And he shaved!”

“His clothes are so much better,” Gabe comments as he discreetly brushes over his elegant suit; he’s a vampire, with expensive taste. Somehow, he speaks just fine despite the prosthetic fangs. “No more oversized hoodies. Body positivity for everyone, right? We don’t stay twenty-four forever, and neither do our bodies, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

The video cuts to Pete and his kids, all dressed up, in front of a small, old-fashioned but cute looking cinema. “We’re gonna watch Nightmare Before Christmas!” Pete’s oldest shouts excitedly, and Pete is shown as he waves towards the camera, then runs after his kids.

Travie chuckles, lets out a sigh. “It’s such an important step for Pete to find enjoyment again,” he says with a smile, “the film will always have a special place in their lives, and I want it to be a good memory again.”

“That’s so sweet,” Patrick mumbles, not sure if he means Travie’s remark or Pete, now shown on screen after the movie, with the kids in his arms, halfway between crying and laughing.

Now there’s a cut to the scene of the party, giving a before and after shot of the living room and garden; everyone compliments the décor, coos over the kids’ handmade candle jars and paper bats. Pete and the kids are shown baking the cake pops and decorating them together, and it looks adorable. Patrick smiles to himself as he takes another sip of wine.

“This year’s Halloween is fantastic,” Pete says into the camera, and his smile still looks so goddamn cute despite the skeleton make up, “but next year, I hope I get to spend this special holiday with a very special someone.”

Everyone oohs and aahs in excitement, and Patrick hopes no one catches the tear he discreetly wipes away at these words.

 

 

 

 

 

_8 months later_

 

“Daddy’s on TV! Daddy’s gonna be on TV!” Isaac is sprinting through the living room, already dressed in his skeleton shirt and pants. He’s been wearing these for weeks now, and also, it’s June, but it doesn’t matter. His brother follows, clutching the Zero plushie close to his tiny frame. That’s dressed up enough for him, and Pete has assured his son that it’s fine, especially since the Mr. Oogey Boogey costume is too warm for a hot afternoon in June. Lukas is more into the candy anyway, and the excitement of getting to watch some extra TV on top of it just blows his four-year old brain. Pete smiles to himself as he watches his youngest marvel at the homemade Halloween cake pop like it’s the best and tastiest food he’s ever had, before he feeds some to the plush ghost dog in his lap; Pete will miss it, that precious innocence, that phase where his kids are just starting to explore the world with an open, excitable mind.

“Daddy’s on TV!” Pete yells too as he arranges the rests of the snacks on the table. They all made the cake pops together, but the rest of the sweets, Pete has to admit, is store-bought. It is an array of a spooky sugary wonderland, processed sugar and everything else that’s bad. Yeah, the kids will have some fruit salad for supper or maybe some tomatoes hidden in their lunch sandwiches tomorrow, no one can be a perfect dad 24/7.

“Will we be on TV too?” Isaac asks, wide-eyed and proud. “You promised we will!”

“Maybe,” Pete teases with a laugh, and Lukas looks at him now, offended. “Want to be in TV,” he declares, smudged finger pointing at the screen showing the Netflix logo, “like Batman!”

“We will be,” his brother assures him as he grabs into the sweets bowl with both hands, “right, daddy? Can we watch Batman afterwards?”

Pete tries to calm the waves and tries to pry the excessive amount of sweets out of Isaac’s hands. While he does so, Lukas climbs up the couch, Zero still tucked into his arms.

“Daddy’s in TV!” He shouts as loud as an excited four-year old can.

“Daddy’s _on_ TV,” Pete corrects him, which makes Lukas shout the correct version again.

 

“I know,” comes back from the kitchen, followed the sound of the pantry door getting closed. “I know, and I’m coming!”

“What took you so long?” Pete asks as he turns around.

“Pete, do you know there’s a reason I gave you all these shelves? You’re supposed to put stuff there, not leave it all on the counter or wherever you feel like. It’s a system,” Patrick monologues as he enters the living room, balancing four glasses, coaster, and a jug of home-made lemonade (Brendon’s recipe). “It’s a system,” he repeats as he puts the coasters on the coffee table.

“What’s a system?” Lukas asks, which makes Patrick sigh as he sits down next to Pete. “I wanna be in the middle,” Lukas declares before Patrick can answer the already forgotten question. They all rearrange themselves until everyone is satisfied – Isaac next to Pete with Lukas on his lap, and then Patrick next to him, sighing again at the thought of unavoidable chocolate stains on the couch he picked. As Pete fumbles with the remote, he sees how Patrick grabs a napkin and one of the the cake pops they all made together, holds it out for Pete to take a bite. Pete can’t help but grin, can’t help but peck a sweet kiss to the corner of Patrick’s smile.

“Love you,” Patrick whispers softly, his pretty blue eyes a sea of adoration.

“Love you too,” Pete whispers back, then Lukas tugs on his shirt, impatient and immune to romance. His little hand leaves five smudges of chocolate on Pete’s shirt, but Pete can’t bring himself to care.

Patrick leans his head on Pete’s shoulder, and Pete points the remote towards the TV.

“Let’s watch this episode.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, everyone! Please consider to leave a little comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts and it's what keeps me going! ;)
> 
> Don't forget to check out the other lovely entries for this challenge! <3
> 
> Happy Halloween, everyone, enjoy the spooky holiday and all the sweets and Peterick it gave us!


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